


Lost in Thought

by ArchangelEquinox



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Bunker Fluff, Getting Together, Human Castiel, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Romantic Fluff, no idea what season
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2018-08-29
Packaged: 2019-07-04 08:18:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15837378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArchangelEquinox/pseuds/ArchangelEquinox
Summary: Dean watches Cas make coffee, and his mind wanders.





	Lost in Thought

Angels aren’t real.  

Dean remembers that argument from when he first met Cas, when he first crawled out of his grave and the gas station windows imploded around him and he and Bobby ended up in a barn in the middle of BFE while lightning crackled around them. 

Now Dean stands in the bunker’s kitchen, watching Cas glare at the dripping coffee maker like its slow brew is a personal insult, studying his messy hair and too-big sweatpants and the idle hand scratching his ass like the human he now is, and he wonders how he ever doubted.  

Angels are very real. Only something so supernatural could bring someone like Cas into his life.  

Dean shifts in place, sipping from his mug and feeling vaguely guilty that he’s currently drinking the last of the coffee; he forgot to make more, and now Cas has to wait.  He should feel worse, but really he’s a little glad Cas has to wait because it means Dean can watch to his heart’s content, and the fallen angel is too tired to ask what he’s doing. 

Cas can feel him staring. Dean knows he can because half the time Cas calls him on it like Dean used to call him on personal space and watching him sleep.  But this time he doesn’t, only keeps glaring through mostly-closed eyes and probably wishing that Dean would take a hike. 

Dean doesn’t.  He can’t, not when he can hardly believe that Cas is  _ here _ , alive and human and safe if not quite well, and he doesn’t want to take his eyes off him.  

Sometimes he doesn’t have to.  Some days, Cas will curl up on the couch next to Dean while he watches nature documentaries -- hey, he likes being reminded that sometimes the world creates insane shit that  _ isn’t  _ trying to kill him -- and correct them under his breath.  Dean’s taken to watching Round Planet when this happens, because despite how hard he tries Cas still doesn’t really get sarcasm and it’s hilarious to watch him try to figure out how to interpret dry British humor.  Even then, he often ends up watching Cas more than the TV, enjoying how Cas’ eyes narrow before he says something snarky or how he will tilt his head in confusion before looking at Dean and asking questions that there’s no way Dean can answer, like how do humans know which arm of the Milky Way holds Earth when even Cas isn’t sure. 

Dean of course has no idea, he’s not Neil DeGrasse Tyson or who-the-fuck-ever, but he likes seeing Cas so adorable and confused.  More than that, he likes that Cas asks -- that Cas doesn’t assume Dean’s stupid just because he didn’t quite finish high school. He could go to Sam, or the internet (God knows Dean’s showed Cas how to access Google more than enough times, and he means that literally), or probably even an actual encyclopedia what with the bunker’s gigantic library.  But he doesn’t - he goes to Dean. 

So Dean tries to find answers or makes them up when he can’t.  When the realization that Cas may never again be able to check up on the Milky Way knocks him on his ass, Dean’s still there to pick up the pieces and find ways that being human can be awesome, like blueberry pie and long drives with no destination and watching the rain pour down to soak the earth. 

He’s so glad Cas is there, grumpy and depressed or otherwise, that he can even ignore Sam’s knowing smile when he sees them sitting together, or how obviously not casual his arm along the back of the couch is, or how Sammy clearly avoids interrupting moments like these even if he needs something.   

Dean’s not stupid.  He knows what this is, even if he doesn’t want to admit it.  It’s too obvious for him to ignore - the soft smiles and Cas’s quiet questions and the immortal fluttering of his heart under his warded ribs.  He still remembers how much that hurt, when Cas was terrifying and powerful and protective even when Dean fucked everything up. 

Dean’s pretty sure that being told no would hurt more though, so he doesn’t say anything.   

And he’s scared of it, sure, who wouldn’t be?  He just doesn’t want to run. He’s run before, run from Cassie and Lisa and even Sam when he couldn’t handle it anymore.  He’s sick of running. 

Maybe keeping quiet is just as bad - maybe he’s being just as cowardly by keeping his mouth shut as he would be if he just walked away.  Maybe. 

It doesn’t matter.  He can’t walk away. He can’t leave Cas behind, in fact can’t stop trying to be closer to him.  He helps Cas water the plants he’s scattered all over the bunker, growing and beautiful despite the lack of light.  He teaches Cas to throw real punches now that he’s lost his mojo, somehow laughing when he ends up with bruises and once a split lip because angel or no, Cas is still a badass.  He pulls Cas outside on nice days, his expertly crafted excuse that “dude, humans need sunlight” flimsy when really he just wants to walk and talk and do nothing together. 

He hovers in the kitchen while Cas makes coffee, wishing he were just a little braver.  

Dean has told archangels to go to hell, and invited the devil himself to join them, but he can’t quite get himself to walk over and wrap Cas up in his arms and never let go, no matter how much he might want to.  

“Dean?”  Cas is right next to him, sipping fresh coffee black like he always does, blue eyes sparkling over the rim.  

“You need a bell,” Dean tells him for the hundredth, maybe thousandth, time.  Cas smiles. 

“You were staring,” he says.  “I did not realize you weren’t actually looking.”  

“What the hell does that mean?” Dean asks even though he knows he wasn’t looking, even though he knows he was wondering how warm Cas’ body would be through that thin shirt and if he’d be able to sneak a hug before Cas decided now would be a good time to demonstrate his hand-to-hand combat skills and punch Dean right in the face.  

He knows that probably wouldn’t happen -- the days of Cas smacking him around are as long past as the Apocalypse.  Instead Cas would probably just tilt his head and ask if Dean was feeling okay and decide it was time to find his own place when Dean inevitably spilled his guts.  

Cas does tilt his head now, but he doesn’t walk away.  “You were lost in thought,” he says, and Dean swallows hard.  

“Yeah,” he says.  “Yeah, I was.” 

Cas sips his coffee again and seems to consider something.  “Would you like to talk about it?” 

Dean shakes his head no and instead brings his own coffee to his lips, glad to have something to occupy his mouth instead of actually speaking.  

Cas sighs and puts down his mug.  He can’t possibly have had enough coffee to be fully awake yet, but he seems more alert.  Dean absently wonders how long he watched Dean staring before he said anything. 

“Dean,” he says again, his voice low and rough as always when he’s exasperated.  Dean kind of loves it. “I know you don’t like talking about certain topics, but I am more than willing to listen.”  

Yeah, Dean does need someone to listen, but he’s too chickenshit to say what he really wants to say.  

“Thanks Cas,” he says instead, already shrugging it off even though he can’t think fast enough to come up with a joke.  “I’m good, but thanks.” He shakes himself and goes to leave, already wondering how to lure Cas into hanging out with him later.  Maybe he can find a Dr. Sexy marathon for Cas to tease him about; that always makes him warm and happy despite his firm refusal to acknowledge why he enjoys Cas making fun of his favorite show.

“Dean,” Cas says yet again. Dean turns, and the fallen angel is  _ right there _ , and then he has two warm, dry lips pressed against his, so light and quick he can’t even shake off his shock to respond before it’s over.  

Cas’ eyes are dark and blue and calm when he pulls back.  “I’ll be in the library if you need anything,” he says before picking his mug up and sauntering off, sweatpants in danger of falling off his hips.  He’s gone before Dean can stop him. 

An hour later finds him standing in the library doorway, hands shaking because he hid in the kitchen and drank coffee for 45 minutes before he psyched himself up enough to walk twenty yards down the bunker’s stark halls.  Even then, he leaned on the wall just outside the door, head tilted back, for another ten minutes before he could actually admit to himself that he was being an idiot and that kiss really did happen. 

And if it really did happen, it means that Cas really does want him, which means that Dean really is just as dense as he’s always suspected for fighting it in the first place.  

“Did you need something?” Cas says without looking up from the enormous book spread in front of him.  Knowing Cas, the book is probably written in some language no one knows anymore, that died out thousands of years before he even considered pulling Dean’s sorry ass from Hell.  Dean’s never really been able to answer  _ why him _ when it comes to that question -- the whole Righteous Man thing in theory, sure, but Dean’s an asshole, so that’s never seemed right -- but at this moment, he’s so grateful for Cas, for his second (or two hundredth) chance to live and fight and maybe, just maybe, finally have what he’s wanted ever since that strange day in a barn in Illinois.  

“Yeah,” he says softly, willing Cas to look up at him.  He does, his hair wild from the hand that’s still propped up to run his fingers through it.  Dean would stare at him all day if he could. If Cas would let him. 

“What is it?”  He prompts before he stands, seeing the look on Dean’s face.  Dean still isn’t sure if he can do it, if he can walk over there and they can figure this out together, but he sees the moment that Cas reaches the wrong conclusion - Cas thinks he’s overstepped and Dean’s come to kick him out like when Sam was sick and he didn’t think he had a choice.  

Of all the things he's faced, that breaks Dean.  He never wants to see that kind of pain on Cas’s face again. 

Dean is across the room and pulling Cas into his arms before he can think twice, but he slows before they quite get anywhere, before Dean can kiss him into submission and it’s Cas’ turn to be surprised.  

Instead he hugs Cas fiercely, relishes the hard thud of their chests coming together and the warmth of Cas’s body pressed to his.  He hugs Cas until he feels his arms wrap around Dean’s waist, until Cas’ shoulders sag with relief, until Cas turns to press a kiss to Dean’s cheek, and only then does he loosen his grip.  

Cas kisses him again, but this time Dean is ready.  This time Dean kisses him back, lets his hand wander up to hold Cas’s stubble-rough jaw and lets his mouth fall open when Cas’s tongue begs entrance.  This time, Dean learns that Cas tastes like stale coffee and minty toothpaste and  _ Cas _ , and he loves it, groaning when Cas hauls Dean closer so he can kiss him even deeper.  The arm around his waist becomes a hand grabbing his ass, and Dean was already glad that Sammy was out getting groceries but now he’s even happier that his baby brother can’t accidentally walk in and hear the whimper that comes out of Dean’s throat when he realizes that he was already easy, but goddammit if he isn’t so easy for Cas that they might have to disinfect the table beside them.  

Cas pulls back before they can make it that far, but Dean doesn’t protest.  Well, he does, chasing his lips until he gets another sloppy kiss before he finally relaxes enough to acknowledge the eye-crinkling smile on Cas’s face.  

“I love you,” he says before he can stop himself, because fuck it, he’s been stopping himself for years now but there’s no reason to anymore.  No reason aside from general social conventions, at least, but Cas barely knows what those are and Dean sucks at them anyway, so who cares. 

“I love you too,” Cas answers even though he doesn’t have to, even though some deep part of Dean’s soul already knows it’s true.  

“Stay with me,” Dean says then, because he’s never asked before and because Cas almost misunderstood and because he wants to.  He wants Cas to know how much Dean needs him in his life and how incomplete he was before Cas, even if he didn’t know it. 

“Always,” Cas says, and Dean can hear in his heart that he means it.  That he’ll stay. 

He wouldn’t have known it years ago, back when Cas was constantly zapping in and out of his life, when war raged and they constantly came so close to losing, but Dean is in fact very grateful that angels are real. 

**Author's Note:**

> If you like Planet Earth and British humor, you owe it to yourself to watch Round Planet on Netflix. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
